


I'll Whisper Your Name Without Fault

by lady_krysis (saekhwa)



Category: Glee
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Canon Character of Color, Character of Color, Community: kink_bingo, F/F, Female Character of Color, Female Characters, Femslash, Foot Fetish, Kink, POV Character of Color, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-16
Updated: 2009-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tina knows nothing about shoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Whisper Your Name Without Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-Series. Thanks to [](http://lunesque.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**lunesque**](http://lunesque.dreamwidth.org/), as always, for being willing to beta for me, for listening to me rant about my muses, and for just being a really awesome friend.

"Oh, _hell_ to the no," Mercedes says with a snap of her fingers, dark eyes flicking over Tina's clothes. "_What_ are you wearing?"

Tina glances down at her clothes, all punk-goth dark from her combat boots to her studded belt and black-and-red striped fingerless gloves. "I-I--"

Mercedes shakes her head. "That's not gonna work with the costumes I've got. C'm'ere, honey."

Tina follows before she thinks about it. She isn't sure what it is about Mercedes that makes everyone -- maybe not everyone, maybe just her -- stop and just do whatever she commands, but she's a force to be reckoned with. She's the only one in the group who seems the most confident in her skin, and Tina almost giggles at the memory of Mercedes getting in Rachel's face during one of the practices.

_"I'm big, black and beautiful, you got a problem with that, princess?"_

And Rachel, pretty but haughty, thinks-she-knows-everything Rachel had backed down. Mr. Schuester had probably helped a lot in diffusing the situation; it had been funny, poignant; it made Tina dream of that kind of strength. Maybe Mercedes' confidence was an illusion, but Tina wanted it anyway. She couldn't help but wear her hesitance on the outside when her tongue stumbled over certain words. It translated into a stutter that she just couldn't kick, especially when she was nervous. The only time she didn't stutter was when she was singing, her mouth easing into the notes, each syllable coming out crystal smooth and perfect.

"Sit down," Mercedes says, and Tina sits, watching Mercedes rummage through a suitcase full of shoes that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"What are all th-th--" Tina takes a deep breath, thinks about what she wants to say, and then, quick and fast, pushes out, "What are those for?"

Mercedes glances at Tina over her shoulder as if she'd asked what color the sky is, as if the answer is so obvious everyone should know it. Then Mercedes grins, expression warming as she shakes her head.

"Girl, these're for you." Mercedes pulls out shoes -- black, red, leather, boots with studs, stiletto boots, open-toed shoes with wedge heels, and Tina is almost envious of all those shoes. "Now _these_," Mercedes says, pulling out a pair of black leather ankle boots with a two-inch heel, "are gonna match the costumes I got us."

What Tina wants to say is, They're pretty; thank you. What comes out is, "I can't."

Mercedes just gives her a look like she's crazy, and before Tina can counter that look with some lame excuse about how heels make her feel awkward because she's not that kind of girl or something, Mercedes is kneeling at her feet and unlacing her combat boots.

"Mer-Mercedes!"

"Oh, hush," Mercedes curtly says and tugs off Tina's right boot.

Tina bites hard on her bottom lip, her heart stuttering in her chest at the feel of Mercedes' fingers skimming down her calves, and she's suddenly self-conscious, thinks about crazy things like if her feet smell or if her striped socks have holes in them, and then Mercedes is tugging off her second boot with a hearty laugh.

"You look like you are thinking _way_ too hard about this," Mercedes says.

Tina exhales a little shriek when Mercedes' fingers tuck behind her knee into the band of her sock, and Mercedes gives her another one of those looks, that you're-being-silly look, so Tina tries to calm down. She cracks a smile as if everything's A-okay, but her heart is racing so fast that it feels like it's in her throat. Watching Mercedes pull down her sock shouldn't make her skin prickle, and Tina's just glad she shaved her legs as the pads of Mercedes' fingers, quick and efficient, brush down her bare skin.

"I-I--" Tina tries to hastily push out, but the words aren't coming.

"Girl, quit stressin'," Mercedes says, laughing when Tina's leg involuntarily jerks at the feel of Mercedes' hand coasting over the sole of her right foot. "You ticklish, huh?"

Tina is terrified that she's blushing, that her eyes are dark and heated with desire when Mercedes glances up at her with a wry little smile and brushes her nails across the bottom of Tina's foot again. Tina shakes her head, a rapid, jerky movement, toes wriggling as she tries to keep herself absolutely still.

"It isn't nice to lie." Mercedes swipes her fingers over the top of Tina's foot, and another high-pitched noise escapes Tina's throat, making her blush furiously. "Cute polish," Mercedes suddenly says, and Tina's head spins from the subject change. Because polish?

Tina glances down at her toes; they're painted a dark purple like her fingernails. She wiggles her toes with a shy, "Thanks," that ends a little too breathlessly as Mercedes pulls down Tina's other sock. Tina's toes curl; she can't help it as Mercedes' nails rasp over her heel, coasting along the arch of her foot until she's squirming in her chair.

"You are _really_ ticklish," Mercedes laughs.

"Mer-Mer--"

"Now these boots are gonna look fabulous on you," Mercedes continues.

It's only now that Tina even thinks to ask about shoe size, but it's like Mercedes has thought of everything, and Tina feels like Cinderella -- which seems so lame and girly -- when Mercedes pushes Tina's foot into the boot and zips it up.

"Wow," is all Tina can manage, wiggling and stretching her toes as she stares at her foot.

"Honey, I know shoes," is all Mercedes says, tapping on the pointed toe of the boot with an amused smile.

When Tina looks up with a smile of her own, it freezes on her face, her heart speeding. Mercedes' fingers graze Tina's left foot, drifting up to grip Tina's ankle, and while Mercedes moves briskly and with intent, for Tina, it feels like everything is happening in slow motion.

"Now stand back, sexy mama comin' through," Mercedes says with an upbeat snap of her fingers and a roll of her head. Mercedes laughs harder when Tina glances over her shoulder. Tina's head jerks back when Mercedes grabs her ankles, and says, "I'm talkin' about you, you silly thang."

"M-me?"

"You gotta own these boots," Mercedes says firmly, tapping on the toe of the left boot. "_Own_, you got that?"

Tina mutely nods, mouth slipping into a wide smile. "Own," she repeats.

And Mercedes' broad, bright smile makes Tina's heart skip a beat. "Mer-Mer--" Tina tries, looking away.

"Honey, you're not ownin' those boots," Mercedes says.

"I--" Tina laughs a little at Mercedes' look. Own these boots, she tells herself, but these boots are Mercedes -- black, beautiful, confident. These boots own Tina.

She lightly touches the ankle of the right boot, the leather warm and supple to her fingertips. Her fingers skim over the side zipper, trace the teeth down to the side of the boot and to the point of the toe, across the dip in the arch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment to imagine the shape and feel of Mercedes' skin. Tina wonders if it's because it would be this soft to the touch.

Tina opens her eyes when Mercedes' hand closes over hers on the boot, the combination of their body heat warming the leather so much Tina can feel it like a brand on her foot. "_Own_," Mercedes says, and coupled with her smile, it sounds like an invitation.

They're suspended in a breathless moment -- Mercedes' lips parting, Tina's heart racing -- and when Mercedes' hand shifts, just a little to the left to curl the boot laces around her forefinger, Tina wants to _know_. She doesn't want a kiss; she knows Mercedes would be warm and inviting and Mercedes' body would be all soft, beautiful curves. What Tina wants to know is what these boots will feel like pressing into her back, Mercedes writhing beneath her, the taste of Mercedes hot on her tongue.

_Own_, Mercedes had said, and Tina can't deny that it feels like Mercedes' fingers on the boot are tugging, just a little, asking maybe, inviting, and only when Tina leans forward, dips her head to press her lips to Mercedes, is she confident and sure. Mercedes' lips are just as soft as Tina imagined, and she wants to know what it feels like to own a kiss. So she does.

When Mercedes' mouth parts on a gasp, Tina wets Mercedes' bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. She doesn't mind the bitter taste of Mercedes' lip gloss as she slides her tongue deeper, past the slick edge of Mercedes' teeth, because it's good, so good, the moment her tongue curls around Mercedes', smooth and warm. Mercedes opens to her, tilts her head back for a deeper kiss, and Tina advances, her hands lifting to settle on the slope of Mercedes' shoulder, her left resting lightly on the juncture of Mercedes' neck. Mercedes' fingers tighten around the boot, and Tina presses forward, presses deeper, teasing her tongue along the curve of Mercedes'. She shifts the foot planted on the floor and eases it between Mercedes' legs, rubs it against Mercedes' thigh until she can feel Mercedes shiver, her skin prickling beneath Tina's fingertips.

And this -- _this_ \-- must be what it feels like to own a moment. Tina slides her foot forward until the toe of the boot presses at the vee between Mercedes' legs, making Mercedes' fingers spasm around the other boot. Tina shifts her foot, just a millimeter, and Mercedes' moan is beautiful; it resonates in a soft alto that vibrates against Tina's lips, and it echoes like a garbled _own_.

So Tina does, and it seems easy now, while she's wearing Mercedes' confidence. Tina presses her foot forward more insistently, heat traveling up from their lips and flushing her skin, and then Mercedes is moving, grinding down on the toe of the boot, working her hips in a circular motion that makes Tina's fingers clench around Mercedes' shoulder with a moan lodged in her own throat. She firmly cups the back of Mercedes' neck, her pinky caressing over the knob of Mercedes' spine to feel the shiver of every movement, every rotation of Mercedes' hips. Tina swallows every moan, traces the inside of Mercedes' mouth with her tongue and sucks Mercedes' bottom lip clean until it's glistening and swollen. Mercedes moves, hips rolling, the heat from between her legs searing straight through the leather of the boot to Tina's foot, and Tina angles it just so, knows it's good when Mercedes bucks and pushes down again, shifting back and forth, circling, working her way up to--

Tina swallows Mercedes' tight, choked moan and holds her through the trembles of her orgasm, and it's--It makes Tina blush furiously, eyes darting to the left as she pulls back just a little, toes curling in her boots, but then Mercedes' soft, breathless laugh draws her attention back.

"You can keep these boots," Mercedes says, her lips spreading into a beautifully flushed smile. She grips Tina's ankle and lifts herself up to kiss Tina full on the lips, and Tina's not sure what she expected, but not this, never this, and she thinks she could wear Mercedes well, smiles at the thought.

Tina's tongue traces the shape of the syllables on Mercedes' tongue before she pulls back and gives them voice, and what comes out is perfect. "Th-Thank you, Mercedes."


End file.
